Kai Lung's Golden Hours eBook

On a protected eminence stood N’ang Wei.
Near him was Wong Pao, confidently awaiting the moment
when the Emperor should declare himself. When,
therefore, the all-wisest graciously made a gesture
of command, Wong Pao hastened to his side, an unbecoming
elation gilding the fullness of his countenance.

“Wong Pao,” said the Illimitable, “the
people are here in gratifying profusion. The
moment has thus arrived for you to consummate your
triumph over Kiau Sun.”

“Omnipotence?” queried Wong Pao.

“The silver that you were to distribute freely
to all who came. Doubtless you have a retinue
of slaves in attendance with weighty sacks of money
for the purpose?”

“But that was only in the nature of an imagined
condition, Sublime Being, designed to test the trend
of their preference,” said Wong Pao, with an
incapable feeling of no-confidence in the innermost
seat of his self-esteem. “This abject person
did not for a single breathing-space contemplate or
provide for so formidable an outlay.”

A shadow of inquiry appeared above the eyebrows of
the Sublimest, although his refined imperturbability
did not permit him to display any acute emotion.

“It is not entirely a matter of what you contemplated,
merchant, but what this multitudinous and, as we now
perceive, generally well-armed concourse imagined.
Greatly do we fear that when the position has been
explained to them, the breathing-space remaining, O
Wong Pao, will not be in your body. What,”
continued the liberal-minded sovereign, turning to
one of his attending nobles, “what was it that
happened to Ning-lo who failed to satisfy the lottery
ticket holders in somewhat similar circumstances?”

“The scorpion vat, Serenest,” replied
the vassal.

“Ah,” commented the Enlightened One, “for
the moment we thought it was the burning sulphur plaster.”

“That was Ching Yan, who lost approval in the
inlaid coffin raffle, Benign Head,” prompted
the noble.

“True—­there is a certain oneness
in these cases. Well, Wong Pao, we are entirely
surrounded by an expectant mob and their attitude,
after much patient waiting, is tending towards a clearly-defined
tragedy. By what means is it your intention to
extricate us all from the position into which your
insatiable vanity has thrust us?”

“Alas, Imperishable Majesty, I only appear to
have three pieces of silver and a string of brass
cash in my sleeve,” confessed Wong Pao tremblingly.

“And that would not go very far—­even
if flung into the limits of the press,” commented
the Emperor. “We must look elsewhere for
deliverance, then. Kiau Sun, stand forth and try
your means.”

Upon this invitation Sun appeared from the tent in
which he had awaited the summons and advanced to the
edge of the multitude. With no appearance of
fear or concern, he stood before them, and bending
his energies to the great task imposed upon him, he
struck the hollow duck so melodiously that the note
of expectancy vibrated into the farthest confines
of the crowd. Then modulating his voice in unison
Kiau Sun began to chant.